Eschalot
by americajane00
Summary: series of drabbles focused around our favorite couple and their brand new baby girl. vegeta's pov
1. princess

hey guys! thanks for taking the time to read this... i was wondering if i should make this into a drabble series centered around Vegeta, Bulma, and Bulla ? tell me your thoughts in the review section! also, sorry for any typos (i wrote this literally two hours ago in a fit of writer's passion). all the love, america j

i do not own this series or these characters

* * *

By the gods, she looks just like her.

All those idiots got a laugh out of claiming that her forehead looks like mine, but I know for sure they must be blind. Her delicate bone structure is nothing like mine, and neither is her pale skin and matching baby blue hair and eyes. She is all her mother.

In her sleep she gurgles, kicking her legs. My eyes examine her closely, reading her ki to assure myself that she is okay. The only proof that she is my daughter is her ki- strong, with an underlying pulse of myself mixed with Bulma. There has not been a daughter born to the house of Vegetasei for generations. I know my mother would be immensely proud, despite her granddaughter being a half-breed.

In moments like these, my mind slips into the recesses of my memory to try to imagine the fate I was supposed to have. Me, sitting on a large throne in the grand palace of Vegetasei where I grew up, clothed in blue and red. The grown up version of girl I met once when I was a boy, her hair brown with a tint of red, sitting next to me as my arranged mate. My mind blurs the edges of what our children would look like, but they would bear the telltale characteristics of pure blooded Saiyans: dark and muscled with tails. I would train with my offspring and meet with the council and at night, sleep next to my mate in our luxurious room.

I shake my head clean of the visions and I am back in Capsule Corp, looming over my second born's bed, wearing earthling clothes and not the robes of Vegetasei royalty. Silently, I move to place my hand on Echalotte's head. Would I want that future of brown-haired, full-blooded spawn? Would I want that Saiyan woman next to me, wearing the crown of Vegetasei? Would Bulma be in my life at all? Sometimes, I entertain the thought that the woman would have found me in any dimension, despite the cold, vast distances of the universe, but then I scoff, ridiculing myself for giving her so much credit.

This head of blue hair beneath my hand contains the brainpower of one of the smartest women in the universe, and this little body contains the blood of Saiyan royalty. My Bra bears the name Eschalot well. Watching her chest rise and fall, I am without a doubt that this is the only fate I'd chose.

"She's beautiful." A warm arm wraps around my torso to stand next to me over the crib. My eyes widen a fraction, cursing myself for letting my guard down so much that I did not sense my own mate. We gaze at our daughter together, and I internally agree with my mate. I swallow hard, my forehead knitting together.

"Vegeta, I don't know why you have this tendency to frown at our children." She teases with a lilt in her voice as she presses her fingers to my forehead to smooth out the creases.

"I don't want her to look like you." I say and I know she is surprised as she steps back.

"Why?" Bulma asks, patience and luckily not anger echoing in her voice.

"The universe… it is not a kind place. Especially for women who look like you." I look towards the window, clenching the bars of the crib with my hands.

There is a pause of silence, until my wife chuckles.

"I love when you offhandedly acknowledge that I'm gorgeous. It reminds me you're not blind." She fluffs her hair and I roll my eyes, pushing away from the crib and moving toward the doorway.

"Wait, Vegeta." Her hand grabs mine and I allow her to pull me to her.

"You know, the universe has been plenty kind to me. And I know with a father like you and a mother like me, you best believe the universe better be good to our daughter or someone will have hell to pay for it." Her blue eyes glint like metal in the glow of the nightlight plugged into the adjacent wall, and I feel a surge of pride through my veins. What a terrifying queen this little Earth woman would have made, forcing her subjects to bow in reverence to her relentless intellect and all-encompassing willpower. But as my thoughts travel back to my daughter…

"You don't know the universe like I do, Bulma." The use of her name gets her attention. "I've seen what evil beings, tyrants like Frieza, do with woman like you, not to mention that Bra is _my daughter_. Do you know how many countless beings would like to exact revenge against me, and Eschalot is the absolute perfect target." I whisper harshly.

"Eschalot? Why did you call… Do you call her Eschalot?" Bulma tilts her head, looking from me to our daughter and back. I scowl.

"Since you didn't want to ask me what to name our daughter, I took it upon myself to give her a name worthy of the House of Vegetasei, considering she _is_ Saiyan royalty." I mutter, crossing my arms.  
"Oh Vegeta! That is the sweetest thing I've ever heard! What a beautiful name… Entirely fit for a princess!" My wife launches herself into my arms, blubbering and causing a commotion.

"Shhhhh…" I whisper into her ear, looking worriedly at our sleeping child as my ears grow hot at my wife's outburst. Bulma removes her hands from my shoulder and wipes her eyes with the edges of her nightshirt.

"Sorry, must be some lingering pregnancy hormones." She says hoarsely, but smiles brightly at me through her watery eyes, and I place my hands on her waist to pull her into my chest.

"You're an amazing dad, you know that Vegeta? And you would have been an amazing king." She says into my neck as I place my chin on her head to gaze out the window at the bright galaxies hanging in Earth's sky.

Someone, somewhere out there must be looking out for me.


	2. fatherhood

thanks to everyone who reviewed or followed or favorited! i am going to follow your advice and continue this series of drabbles. this second chapter is a bit longer than the first. trunks hasn't made an appearance yet, but t promise you he will appear in the next chapter! much love, america

i do not own the the dragon ball series

* * *

She can screech like her mother too. Cursed genetics gave me a banshee daughter along with my banshee mate. The child is a day old and she has my wife up every other hour, her cries coming through a small device that my wife keeps on her nightstand. Like clockwork, the brat begins to whimper, waking me up. Once her whimpers become full wails, my mate stirs, unsteadily slipping out of bed and into her robe, before stumbling out the door to the next room where our child sleeps. Like the mornings before, when I rise from our bed, my wife's side is empty and I find her downstairs, nursing a large cup of tea.

I grunt as I walk into the kitchen and she simply gives me a tired smile before returning to the schematic she no doubt has been working on since the early hours. Worried but unwilling to admit it, I raid the refrigerator and first place a bowl of misoshiru into the microwave before putting a large dish of rice and yakizakana into the oven to heat up. The microwave beeps and I pull out the steaming bowl with my bare hands, before grabbing a napkin and walking over to place the food in front of my wife, whose eyelids are drooping as she lazily sketches something.

Her eyelids flutter as I place the bowl down gently, and then her giant eyes fixate on the soup. Hungrily, she grabs the bowl and drinks the soup, sighing and wiping her mouth with her sleeve when she is halfway through. I grimace at her table manners as I take my own plate of food to the table and place a napkin on my lap.

Her ki seems to have strengthened slightly as she takes another gulp of the soup and places the bowl down with a sigh. I lift my chopsticks to begin eating my rice, and I see her eyes watching me.

"Your daughter definitely has your appetite. I shouldn't be surprised, but it's been so long since Trunks was born that I forgot. I'm going to have to start pumping and I'll have to find the notebook where I wrote down how I made the fortified, protein-rich supplements for Trunks." As she analyzes her work, she chews her pen and knits her brow in concentration.

I reach over without thinking to ease her hand and the pen away from her mouth, and her sharp gaze meets mine. I nonchalantly gesture to her schematic and mutter, "You switched the wires on the right side." She narrows her eyes at me and I smirk, knowing she cannot stand it when my intellect trumps hers. Huffing, she erases that part of the drawing and inserts the correct corrections.

"What was that you said a moment ago about experimenting on my son with some type of supplement?" I ask after swallowing a bite of fish. She looks up at me with a glint in her eyes and a smirk on her lips.

"Vegeta darling, do you really think I would experiment on _my own_ son?" She shrugs, "I gave it to Goku and Gohan before I fed it to Trunks. I mean, what was I supposed to do? I had just given birth to a half-Saiyan child and his rogue father had disappeared, leaving me with nothing to know about his race." She takes a thoughtful sip of tea. "Trunks was losing weight fast and the doctors didn't know what to do. I couldn't produce enough milk and Earth baby formula made him sick. I was at the end of my rope." She whispers the last part, looking down at her drink and not at me.  
I clear my throat, uncomfortable. My mate has always been more than gracious with me, but she is never less than honest, and I feel the unwelcome curling of failure around my gut.

"Was the birth of Trunks… difficult?" I almost stumble on my words. Now it is me avoiding her gaze, as I look down at the table and cross my arms. I can sense her indecision.

"It was not as easy as planned." She provides vaguely, picking up her bowl and cup to place in the sink.

"Woman…" I growl as she walks past me. I hear her let out a breath, placing her items in the kitchen before returning to sit next to me at the table. She picks a cuticle and goes into full-medical mode.

"I was on bed rest for three weeks. I developed preeclampsia, which is a pregnancy condition that causes high blood pressure and can be fatal, early on, and Trunks had started to kick so hard that I would sometimes collapse. Additionally, he was early- well, for human terms he was early. In reality, the only person I knew who had any experience with Saiyan pregnancies was Chi Chi, but she delivered at nine months as expected. Meanwhile, I was six months pregnant and had been four centimeters dilated, which means I was in active labor, for two weeks. The doctors wanted to perform a C-sec…. Well, they wanted to cut Trunks out of me, but I was afraid to do that because of how unsure the doctors were about the pregnancy." She stops looking at her hands to look at me.

"I was in labor for 40 hours," she grimaces. Silence covers us for a handful of seconds.

"When I asked you why you wanted me to be here for Bra's birth, you said you wanted me here so I could have the experience as a father." I begin slowly.

"Which is true! You didn't have the chance with Trunks." She interjects.

"So why," I continue, "did you not inform how dangerous this pregnancy was to your health?" I look her directly in the eye. She places her soft, pale hand on my own.

"Hon, when you mentioned have another kid, I was ecstatic. In my opinion, we create incredibly intelligent, strong, and beautiful offspring, so why deny the world?" She smiles but her smile fades as she observes my severe look.

"In truth, I didn't want to scare you. I knew you were already freaked out as it was, and I didn't want to make it worse by causing you to worry about me." She says earnestly.

"That can't be helped." I mumble, picking up my plate to put in the sink as well. I clear my throat.

"I am going to train." I say to the wall and not to Bulma's face.

"Okay," I hear her clattering around to boil another pot of tea, "You'll be back tonight, right?" She inquires.

"Yes. Most likely after dinner." I answer, my back still to her, as I exit the room.

After a fifteen hour workout, I exit the gravity room freshly showered, a towel around my waist and neck. Years ago, Bulma insisted on installing a cleaning room into my training area, complaining that she 'refuses to have to smell you before I see you'. I had simply glared at her, increasingly annoyed at her presence- not because of her inherently obnoxious attitude, but because she had started to haunt me even in the confines of the gravity room. For years, all I would picture during my training was my end goal. For a while that goal was achieving immortality, but for my whole life the end goal was to achieve my birthright, Super Saiyan, and slay that tyrant, Frieza.

But suddenly, I couldn't picture that goal anymore. My thoughts were invaded by her, with her calculating touches and smiles and the smoke in her eyes when she shouted at me. And when I sensed that she was carrying my child, when I felt the first beat of Trunk's heart, his body already stronger than I had been as a teenager, I fled.

How ironic it is that now my training is fueled by images of my mate and children. All I can think of as I push the gravity higher and higher is my family.

Still mulling over my thoughts, I enter the dark room I share with Bulma and grab a pair of boxers, throwing my towel into the hamper. As I crawl into bed, the wailing from that small device begins again, and I hear my woman begin to stir. She throws her legs over the side of the bed, but I grab her arm before she sits up fully.

"Woman, you need to get some sleep." I say gruffly, observing her sagging form.

"No, I have," she yawns, "to go and feed… Bra," she yawns again.

I reach over to put my arm around her waist and pull her body against mine. She wriggles a bit, resisting, but I kiss her neck right above her mating mark, and whisper, "I'll take care of the brat. You go to sleep." She groans and murmurs something intelligible as I throw back my covers, grab a shirt and exit the room.

In my mind I see Frieza and Zarbon laughing at me, the poor monkey prince demoted to a lowly nursemaid, but I easily shove the images away. Every year here on Earth, it becomes easier and easier to quiet the demons who once terrorized me.

Opening the door to my daughter's room, I see her thrashing and I wince as her screaming meets my sensitive ears. Quietly, I walk to her crib and reach in to pick her up. Patting her on the back, her cries become silent as I make my way to the kitchen. As I rummage through the fridge, the child pulls at my hair. I scowl. The woman has been feeding my child only milk, as if Eschalot is fully human. I scoff. For a genius, Bulma can be brainless sometimes.  
I pull out a piece of meat, and bite a tiny piece off before spitting it into my hand. No longer crying, the child watches me with the same piercing eyes as her mother. If I couldn't feel this kid's blasted ki, I'd swear the cursed woman cloned herself.

But as I feed Eschalot the meat piece by piece, I know her paternity is unquestionable. She even eats like a true Saiyan. Finally satiated, the little female curls herself into my neck, her chubby hands clutching to my shirt. Tiredly, I make it back to her room and place her in her crib, partially relieved to not feel her presence so close to me, vulnerable and in need of protection. Scoffing at myself, I shut her door gently and make it back to my room.

Is this fatherhood? Hmm, I don't know why everyone makes such a big deal about it.

* * *

i think next chapter will center around Trunks observing how his dad is acting around the new baby, and wondering why there aren't any pictures of himself with his dad when he was a baby. stay tuned and tell me what you think of that idea :) also, i had them eat a traditional Japanese breakfast in this chapter because i wanted to give a nod to the roots of this series.


	3. snapshots

hello! sorry this update took a bit longer than usual... i've been working on another fanfiction centered around Bulma and Vegeta. Stay tuned for that one ;) but please enjoy and review if you feel inclined to do so... maybe offer an opinion on how well you think i'm writing from vegeta's pov, since vegeta is vegeta and it's sometimes difficult to get into his head

i don't own these characters or dbz/dbs

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Pulling two gallons of water from the refrigerator, I head pass the living room to the the gravity simulator.

"Come on Trunks." I say as I pass my son, who's sitting on the floor. When I don't sense him moving to join me, I pause for a moment. Hm, there's no sound of violence coming from the screen to which the boy is usually glued. Odd.

Glancing around the corner, I see him surrounded by about six books. As I approach, I see he holds a picture in each hand. Leaning in closer, I can see that one is a group photograph of Bulma, holding Trunks, and Bulma's parents. The picture in his right hand is one that Bulma took of me without my knowledge. I'm sitting on the couch, holding Bra, with Bulma's parents hovering behind me. Blasted woman.

My gaze shifts from the pictures to Trunks, whose brow is knit in concentration.

"Why… Why are there no pictures of you with me as a baby, Dad?" Trunks inquires. I gulp. After the Buu fiasco, Bulma and I had partially explained to Trunks about my past, but we did not dive deeply into that cesspool. As Trunks gazes at me with an eyebrow raised, I'm struck by his resemblance to me. I don't know why I didn't see it when that boy from the future came to this time. Just like the Trunks in front of me, Future Trunks possesses my slanted eyes, my nose, and my tanned skin. Bulma has made comments in the past that she knew she saw something familiar in Future Trunk's face that made her attracted to him. I grimace and throw that thought away, wondering for a moment if this mudball planet's gravity affects sanity. All these humans are imbeciles.

Unsure of what to say, I take the photo of Trunks with his mother and grandparent from my son's hand. When this picture was taken, I was still in space, trying to escape any responsibility to this child in front of me. But how do I explain that to him? He is a teenager… By the time I was his age, I had purged countless planets, taken innumerable lives, and was planning revenge against the tyrant who had killed my people and enslaved me. Part of me wants to be cruel and simply tell him the harsh truth. But, a bigger part of me wants to shield Trunks from everything I once knew.

Trunks gets up to leave, and I realize I must have been staring at the photo for a few minutes now. As he walks by, he takes the item from my hand. I stand in stunned silence, still uncertain of what to do.

"It's okay Dad. I'm not sure what happened, but I have a feeling I understand on some level." He mumbles as he walks away, not towards the gravity room but towards his bedroom. I simply watch him walk away, unable to sort out my thoughts. Grunting, I go where I always go when I am uncertain of what to do.

* * *

Upon entering Bulma's lab, my sensitive nose is assaulted with the smell of trash. Wrinkling my face, I glare disgustedly at the mess that she calls her workroom. The trash can is overflowing and there are papers cluttered everywhere. At a desk on the other side of the room, I barely can make out my mate's blue hair sticking above a pile of metal. Behind her, a smartboard is filled with complex equations.

Slowly making my way around the crap on the floor, I approach my wife, who's furiously typing on a laptop. Three empty cups of coffee surround her workspace, and a pencil is shoved behind her ear. I lean against the adjacent wall, allowing her to finish whatever she is working on. I've learned the hard way not to interrupt the woman when she is "in the zone", as she calls it.

In about three minutes, she clicks one last button and leans back with a sigh, stretching. She spins around in her chair and stands up to refill one of her coffee cups.

"So, what do you need Vegeta?" She inquires, stirring sugar into her cup. She blows a piece of hair out of her face.

"The boy… He's asked me a question." She stops stirring.

"And what may have that question have been?" She asks, her eyebrow slanting in the same way Trunks's had moments ago.

"He's acquired some photographs… And has made the connection that I was not around during his earlier years." I say gruffly, working out some kinks in my neck. Bulma gazes at the wall, and I can see her concentrating.

"So when he asked you about it, you didn't answer?" She surmises. I grunt in affirmation. She places her cup down and moves to lean against the desk across from me.

"Look, this is something that's between you and him. If you want me to be present for this… conversation, then I will be there. But I think it's about time you talked about this with him. _Especially_ now that he is going to be seeing you interacting with Bra." I nod in agreement. I hesitate a moment before I reveal what I'm truly wondering.

"But what about everything else about…"

"Your past?" She finishes for me. Her hand latches out to grasp mine, and she squeezes my fingers as tightly as she can.

"Trunks absolutely adores you. And he is a bright kid; he already knows that you weren't always on our side. I think a big part of him _wants_ to understand why you were that way. The kid comprehends cause and effect." I absorb her words silently. With a small smile, she moves closer to me, stroking my cheek. My hands instinctively travel to her hips.

"He's still going to look up to you, Vegeta. And in his older years, he may hold even more respect for you as he matures and understands more fully what you went through." She whispers into my ear before nibbling on my earlobe. Bringing her body flush against mine with one hand, I use the other to gently grasp her chin and bring her mouth to my own. Kissing her hard, I silently thank her for her support. Just as always, she somehow understands my way of communicating as she groans and weaves her hands into my hair. Lifting her up to sit on the desk, I move my mouth to kiss her mating mark. She arches her neck, clutching the nape of my neck.

She's about to pull me up to her mouth again, but her phone goes off. I bury my face in her neck and huff as she throws her head back to laugh. Gently pushing me off of her, she answers her machine with a wink. I smirk back at her, before quietly stalking upstairs.

* * *

I sense out my son's ki, and it leads me to Eschalot's room. I find my son looming over my daughter's crib, his arms crossed. An exact replica of me. I swallow. Hopefully, he will be nothing like me.

"Trunks." I call, and he turns his head slightly to acknowledge me. I snort at his disrespect, and stalk over to stand with him.

"She sleeps a whole lot." He mutters, eyes fixed on Bra.

"You did too." I say after a few moments.

"How would you know?" Trunks asks, his blazing eyes meeting mine with a challenge.

"Son," I take a deep breath, "you know I was not always who I am today. And when you were born, I still had a lot of… change… to go through." I swallow my pride before continuing.

"I was afraid to be a father. But when I returned to Capsule Corp after the Cell Games, it became… instinctual." There is a second of silence between us.

"I used to watch you sleep like we are watching Bra." I offer, unsure what my son's silence means. With a sigh, Trunks moves to the window to stare at the stars. I cross my arms, feeling uncomfortable. I make up my mind to leave when Trunks speaks up.

"Thanks for being honest with me, Dad. I do really appreciate it. And… I hope you know I don't hold any of your past against you." With a small smile, my son walks out the door of Eschalot's room. I exhale a breath I didn't know I was holding, and fix my gaze on Bra.

'That went well, didn't it, princess?' I ask my sleeping daughter in my mind.


	4. protector

hello :) here is a heavier chapter focusing on vegeta's last day on earth before the tournament of power. please enjoy and review if you feel so inclined :)

* * *

I can feel the tension in the air the moment I wake up. When my family eats breakfast, we sit mostly in silence. Bulma won't make eye contact with me as she nurses Bulla, and my wife's behavior seems to be rubbing off on our son, as he gazes around the table with a confused look on his face. He attempts to start a few conversations, cracking some jokes to get his mother to smile. She grants him a few soft smiles and one laugh, just enough to make him feel relieved enough to leave the table and ask if he can go visit Kakarot's youngest spawn.

Unaccustomed to seeing my normally obnoxiously loud wife soberingly quiet, I quickly eat all of my food and escape the kitchen as fast as I can. Her severity unsettles me. I flex my fists, feeling frustration seep into my muscles at the knowledge that she wouldn't have to worry if I was stronger. She wouldn't be sitting in the kitchen looking out the window like she wants to memorize everything before it's gone if I was a better protector.

I walk to the gravity room but pause with my hand on the door handle, frozen in revelation. _What's the point?_ I ask in my head. I already have trained in the hyperbolic time chamber. What is one more day of training going to truly change? A dark acceptance seeps into my bones.

 _We're screwed no matter what._

I shudder at the thought, squeezing the door handle, wanting to curse every eternal god for this final, ultimate twist of fate in my life. It seems a fitting punishment for a killer like me. Finally, I have everything I never knew I wanted. Finally, I have accepted a life of peace.

And just when I was beginning to think of Earth as home and just as the demons had started to go away, everything's about to be ripped right out of my hands.

I thought Bulla's birth would give me a fresh start. It seems that I will not get the chance to redeem myself as a father.

Defeated, I head upstairs, past the doorway to my present bedroom and down a few halls to my first bedroom here on Earth. When I open the door, I see that everything is essentially the same as I left it. Bland white walls, a military-esque cot thrown on the floor. Sheets tucked perfectly into the side of the bed. A closet off to the side of the very small bedroom. Standing in here now, I feel so claustrophobic. The first time I stepped into this room, I felt tears sting my eyes at the thought of having a room of my own for the first time since I was a child.

Easing myself onto the bed, I lay back, folding my arms behind my head. Patronizing voices crowd my head, insisting I should be with my family- _no_ , I should be training- _no_ , I should have left this blasted mudball a decade ago. Tiredly, I massage my forehead. If I'm honest, all I truly want right now is to sleep. Closing my eyes, I feel myself slowly drifting off, part of me hoping I may wake up and this will all be a nightmare.

"Vegeta?" I hear the woman's voice in my ear, and I mumble before blinking to gaze up at her. She sits on the edge of the cot next to me, holding Eschalot.

"Vegeta, darling?" Her gentle hand, the one not holding our baby, reaches out to smooth my hair. Still drowsy, I sit push myself up to a sitting position. Bulma's eyes watch me, her blue eyes sparkling in the sunlight that shines through the window.

"What time is it?" I manage to mutter.

"It's twelve in the afternoon. I think you've been sleeping since breakfast this morning." She answers, giving me a lopsided grin. I shake my head at myself, angry. Tension floods my body, and I go to stand up to go and _do_ _something_ , darn it, but her hand reaches up to my shoulder and my neck immediately relaxes.

"I'm glad you slept. You're going to need all the energy you can get." She whispers, the haunted look returning to her eyes, making me want to raze the universe.

I grunt in response, shifting my eyes to look at Eschalot, who sleeps peacefully in her mother's arms.

"At least she has no idea." Bulma says, smiling warmly at our daughter. I feel as defenseless as I did when I sparred Frieza as a child, and my gut feels like Kakarot just delivered a well-aimed punch to it.

"Vegeta, I want you to know something." My mate's eyes have regained their normal fire, and I restrain myself from running away from the moment I know we are about to have. She needs this, and I am willing to give her anything before we meet our untimely demise. When I think that all of this might be erased, I think I can admit that I need this too.

"You are absolutely the strongest person I know. When I invited you to live here at Capsule Corp., I did it because I saw something in you that I.. recognized. I don't know how else to put it. I know you hate when I get sappy, but I want you to know that every fiber of my being knows that you and I were destined to be together. You're the only person who can put up with me. And I want you to know that no matter what happens, I'm so incredibly proud of you and I wouldn't want to face possible annihilation with anyone else by my side." Her hand cups my cheek and she smiles, a genuine smile, all tears gone from her eyes.

I blink, processing her words, before catching her chin in my hand and leaning over to place my lips on hers, trying to convey all that I feel. She kisses me back just as hard as I am kissing her, her mouth moving over mine.

I pull away, knowing that Eschalot is still in her mother's arms, sleeping. Looking down at her, I gently touch the fuzzy blue curls that are growing from her head. Bulma's chest rises like she's about to say something, but I see her swallow her sentence. After all these years, I've learned how to speak and she's learned how to be quiet. Truly, it's a miracle.

"I will not fail you." I look at Bulla and then up at Bulma, resolve in my voice. For a moment, I truly believe what I am saying. How can I fail when these females are relying on me? How can I never train with Trunks in the gravity chamber ever again, or lose the years of Eschalot growing up? How can I look at Bulma and allow myself to forfeit this bond that's formed between us through years of toil and attraction and blood.

I lost my family once, when I was barely old enough to remember. I will not lose my family again.

Bulma nods, her eyes shining with hope and confidence.

"I would expect nothing less from you, Prince Vegeta."

Smirking, I again capture her lips with my own. She breathes out heavily, sliding her tongue over my mouth. I bite her lip in punishment.

"You should put the child down for her afternoon nap." I hiss headily between a kiss.

She giggles, planting one last kiss on my mouth, and stands up. Stopping at the doorframe to look at me, she raises an eyebrow.

"I'll see you in our bedroom, your Highness." With a wink, she's out the door and I hear her footsteps patter on the floorboards.

Exhaling, I begin to pace my old bedroom, still uneasy about tomorrow. Still uneasy about what I want to leave to my family. Uncertain, a plan begins to form in my mind. I remember the old scraps of paper I'd keep in my closet in order to draw schematics at night when I couldn't sleep. Opening the closet, I find the pile of paper right where I left it. Pulling the paper and a pen out, I collect my thoughts and write. I will tell Bulma where to find these letters before I leave. They will at least have one piece of me left, even if I die and the Universe is saved.

And if the Universe is not saved, they will at least understand why I risked my life for them.

 _Bulma-_

 _Thank you. For your faith in me. What you've given to me is a debt I can never repay._

 _D'todo en alvelt, ikh'uridant faqat._

 _Yours,  
Vegeta _

_Trunks-_

 _Son, you carry the House of Vegetasei on your shoulders with pride. Watch after your_

 _mother and sister,_

 _Your father, Crown Prince Vegeta VIII_

 _Eschalot-_

 _No matter who you grow up to be, you will be the Princess of Vegetasei, named after your_

 _grandmother, Queen Eschalot. Carry your title with pride. Know that I am always with you, chou'chou._

 _Your father, Crown Prince Vegeta VIII_

* * *

 _* D'todo en alvelt, ikh'uridant faqat._ : a combination of many languages that translates to "Of all in the universe, I want only you."

* chou'chou: cabbage-cabbage, a French expression that means "darling"


End file.
